


The Corpse of a Pine Tree Covered in Lights

by imaginisa



Series: Gotham Knights [3]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-14
Updated: 2017-12-14
Packaged: 2019-02-14 19:43:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13014834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imaginisa/pseuds/imaginisa
Summary: Sequal (of sorts) to Thanks for Giving.Dick thinks its about time they started some holiday traditions. But nothing ever goes as planned when you are part of the Wayne Clan!





	The Corpse of a Pine Tree Covered in Lights

The invitation is handwritten on snowman stationary. " _Please arrive at 4:00 pm on December 24th for the annual Wayne Family Christmas Party. Christmas wear is suggested_." 

Bruce Wayne lowered it slowly to raise an eyebrow at his oldest son. 

"Really?" Asked Bruce. 

"Really," said Dick. 

"Since when do we have an annual Christmas...anything?" Pointed out Bruce. 

"You _used_ to have an annual Christmas Holiday Party," countered Dick. "Back when I was little. Even Jason went to a few of those. But after he died, you stopped all that stuff." 

Bruce grimaced. He didn't like to be reminded of his ultimate lack of social graces when Jason had, temporarily, died.

"But Jason is back, and Tim and Dami deserve a Christmas party," continued Dick. "Especially Dami."

Bruce had to, privately, agree. 

"Given his strong reaction to Thanksgiving this year," continued Dick. "I think this is an excellent idea." 

"All right," agreed Bruce. 

Dick beamed. "Perfect! I've already given Alfred, Babs, and Tim their invites. That just leaves Dami and Jay! Any preferences on a tree?" 

"Excuse me?" 

"A Christmas Tree, Bruce." 

"Not really," said Bruce. "But get one with sturdy branches - remember when you broke your arm that Christmas when you were fourteen cause the tree collapsed when you tried to climb it?" 

Dick looked dumbfounded. "You remember that?" 

Bruce rolled his eyes. "Of course I remember that! You still hold the record for getting hurt the most while _not_ on a mission." 

Dick laughed. "Don't forget presents," he reminded Bruce and then took the stairs two at a time, calling for Damien.

Bruce had to smile. 

 

* * *

 

 

Jason staunchly refused to help with the tree. As did Damien who claimed it meant no sense to bring the corpse of a tree inside of the house. So it was just Alfred, Dick, and Tim wandering around a Christmas tree farm about an hour from Gotham. It started snowing while they were, and Tim laughed out loud, sticking out his tongue to catch the snowflakes. Dick laughed and spun around, trying to catch the flakes in his hands.

Alfred tried to look gruff, hoisting the ax and saying, "Aren't we here to haul a tree corpse back to our manor?" 

"A what?" Tim spluttered. 

"That's what Master Damien is calling the Christmas tree," explained Alfred. 

Tim snorted. Dick took the ax from Alfred and pointed to a sturdy looking tree, "That one seems to fit our specifications." 

"Sweet!" Said Tim. "It's a White Spruce Pine!" 

 

* * *

 

 

Jason pulled into the highway of Wayne Manor at 3:45 pm, his motorcycle spraying snow high into the air. He hadn't meant to be early, but the safety on one of his guns was jammed and he figured that he'd shoot himself in the foot if he was walking around unable to lock his gun with all this ice around. As long as the gun remained in the holster, he wasn't worried. 

He had the presents in a shopping bag stuffed into his jacket pocket and was seriously wondering why he was there at all. He got off the motorcycle and was removing the helmet only to end up with a faceful of snow. 

"Defend yourself!" Crowed a young voice above him.

Another voice responded with "Fire!" 

Jason flung himself down as he found himself being pelted with snowballs. "DEMON BRAT!" Yelled Jason. "REPLACEMENT!" 

The Replacement laughed in response while the Demon Bray taunted him, "How are you supposed to win a snowball fight from the ground, Todd?" 

Jason dared to raise his head to see that the two younger bat-kids were in the trees that lined the driveway. They both had a hefty pile of snowballs lined along the branches. 

"We'll give you ten seconds!" Said the Demon Brat, clearly enjoying himself. "Ten...Nine..." 

"You are sooo dead," panted Jason, hurrying to make snowballs. "No one beats me at this game." 

"Six...Five..." 

"You're going to lose," pointed out the current Red Robin. 

"You first!" Jason retorted. And flung a perfect snowball right at the teen before Demon Brat even got to 'one.' The Replacement dodged it of course but it gave Jason the distraction he needed to get up the tree and just tackle the kid into the snowbank. Demon Brat laughed and just threw snowballs at both of them while they wrestled in the snow until Dick came outside and started throwing snowballs at Damien...with a potato gun. 

 

Needless to say, they were all sopping wet by the time they actually came inside. But everyone was more or less pleased with the results of the last two hours. 

Except for Alfred, who sighed and shook his head and made everyone take off their wet clothes by the entrance. 

 

"Gun off," Damien told Jason. 

Tim caught Jason's glare but he left his gun in the umbrella stand all the same. 

Bruce came down wearing a smirk and a Christmas sweater with a reindeer on it, causing Damien to gape at his father in horror.

"You all have terrible snowball form," said Bruce, leading to an instant round of complaining from all four boys. 

"Just go decorate the tree," he said, herding them away from the entrance hall. "Maybe you can prove to me all that you're better at snowballs than you seem tomorrow morning." 

"You're on," said Dick instantly. 

"Four against one?" Tim asked, grinning. "You're confident." 

"We shall triumph!" Said Damien, running to jump on the couch. "With our icy ammo we shall rule the...yard, I guess." Realizing he was acting childish, he jumped off the couch quickly. 

Jason just silently registered the fact that Bruce had just implied he was staying the night. He found that he was okay with that. And that surprised him. 

Luckily, Dick opening a box of Christmas ornaments with a flourish to reveal a set of Justice League related ornaments spared Jason having to answer. 

 

"Explain again why we are decorating this tree?" Asked Damien, as they stood back to admire their handiwork. (There had been a brief tussle in which Alfred and Tim wanted to decorate the tree traditionally and Dick and Jason wanted to use the new ornaments and they had opted to make half the tree Justice League-themed and the other half the gold and red spheres and diamonds. It looked surprisingly good. Only the star was left.) 

"Tradition," said Dick. 

"Whose tradition?" Insisted Damien. "We're not religious. Our tradition is kicking ass together." 

"The idea is to do something as a family, to form memories together," said Tim, surprising everyone. "And we could use memories together that, you know, don't involve kicking ass." 

Damien thought about this. "Like Thanksgiving?" 

"Yeah," said Tim. 

Damien cocked his head and looked at Tim. "Was Christmas a big deal at your house when you were little, Drake?"

Everyone else froze where they stood. As a very strict, unspoken rule, they didn't talk about their birth families. Ever.

Tim just looked dumbfounded.

Sensing the change in mood, Damien demanded, "Did I say something wrong?"

"No," said Tim, still astonished. "You've just never asked me about my parents before." His look turned thoughtful. "Yeah, it was a big deal. We always got the tree the day after Thanksgiving. Dad always got one that was too big for the house and we'd have to saw off the top. The tiny tree always went into my room. I'd decorate that one my way..." he looked sheepish. "Usually it was Batman-and-Robin ornaments."

Dick grinned. Alfred shot a look at Bruce who still looked wary. Jason sat down on the couch, trying to look inconspicuous. 

Tim continued. "We'd make cookies for all the neighbors, and decorate the nearby park with popcorn strings and cranberries for the animals. And then we'd always go to the Nutcracker,  _always_. I still have that ice-fairy song memorized."

"If you have memories with your original family," asked Damien. "Why do you want to make more with us?" He seemed honestly curious. 

"Well, I'm not replacing the memories or anything," pointed out Tim. "I'm just making new ones." 

"I...I think I understand," said Damien. 

"Hey!" said Tim, his eyes lighting up. "I have an idea!" And he dashed off towards the stairs.

 

Alfred sniffed the air and asked, "Is someone burning something?"

"The gingerbread!" yelled Dick, and ran off towards the kitchen. 

Alfred sighed and followed behind, admonishing, "Master Dick, if you are cooking you need to keep an eye on what you're doing..."

The doorbell rang and Bruce said, "That must be Barbara - I wonder what she did with her key." He stood to go let her in.

Jason leaned back, thinking. He wasn't sure if he'd ever had a Christmas with his original family. Even with the monkey suit, he'd enjoyed the Holiday Season as Bruce's adopted son much more than anything he'd had before. Maybe he should make more of an effort to be around the...

"I thought you took it off," Damien snapped, interrupting Jason's thoughts. 

Jason looked at him blankly. "Huh?"

"I told you to leave it by the door!" And Damien lunged for the gun in the holster that had, until that moment, been hidden by the sweater. 

"Dami, NO!" Jason moved to intercept him, and both of their hands ended up on the gun at the same time. Just as Tim came in through one door, holding a white box, and Dick through the other, holding a plate of slightly burnt gingerbread men.

 

**BANG!**

 

All four boys froze. For a wild moment, Jason thought the gun had been aimed safely at the roof. But then he looked at Dick.

"Oh," said Dick. And he collapsed. 

"DICK!" Tim dashed across the room, flinging the box aside to just manage to catch his older brother's head before it hit the ground. 

"What?" Damien said weakly. Bruce burst into the room. Looking more like Batman than Bruce Wayne, even with the ridiculous Christmas sweater. Barbara and Alfred weren't too far behind.

"What happened?!" demanded Bruce, already on his way to Dick's side.

"Good question," said Dick, still sounding surprised. He'd gotten shot many times before, but always through a Kevlar uniform which mitigated a lot of the damage. "But I don't think anything important was hit."

"TODD BROUGHT A GUN INTO THE HOUSE!" Damien yelled.

"AND I HAD IT ON ME SO THAT IT WOULD NOT GO OFF!" Jason yelled back.  "The safety was broken you little brat!"

"Jason," said Bruce sharply. "Give the gun to Alfred." Bruce stood and picked up Dick as if the boy was still twelve (Dick's protests were ignored.) Bruce glared at Jason until Jason did so, feeling ashamed even as his anger at Damien simmered dangerously. 

"Tim, Barbara, help me downstairs," said Bruce, and he moved to take Dick to the Batcave's small med-area. 

"You two are idiots," Barbara said, giving one last exasperated look at Jason and Damien before going downstairs. 

 

Alfred took the gun, emptied it, and followed the others. 

Jason and Damien just sat on the couch. 

"I didn't know it would go off."

"You should have just asked instead of lunging like a lunatic."

"I thought you left it by the door."

"I have two guns, you dumbass."

"How should I know that!"

"You've seen me fight!" Jason balled his hands into fists and said. "I'm only still here cause I want to make sure Dick is all right before leaving."

Damien was quite for a little bit then said, "You called me Dami."

Jason glared. "It slipped out."

"Only Dick calls me that."

"It. Slipped. Out." 

"It was weird." 

"Noted, Demon Brat." 

"Better," said Damien. He looked around the room and frowned. "What was that thing Drake went to get anyway?" And he jumped off the couch to go open the box. 

When Damien didn't say anything, Jason asked, "Well? What is it?"

"An angel," said Damien. "I think its handmade."

Jason looked up and frowned, "A Christmas angel?"

"Probably?" Damien carefully took it out. The angel was made of individual plates of metal that had been hammered together. Glass gems adorned its crown and horn. "It's hollow."

"It goes on the tree," said Jason sourly. 

"How was I supposed to know that?!" Damien snapped.

Jason realized it was true but was too mad to apologize. 

"It was made in 1923," said Damien, still looking at the inside.

"Huh?" Jason frowned. "That probably means it was passed down in his family." 

"And he wanted to put it on the tree?"

"I wanted  _you_ to put it on the tree," Tim said harshly. He'd come back upstairs and was glowering at the two of them with his arms crossed. "The youngest gets to do the honors. Or that's what we did in my house."

Damien looked flabbergasted. 

"You know," said Tim. "I don't really care who shot Dick, it's equally both of your faults. But I'd like to point out that he's the only one we all like, and we only have one of him so could you please be more careful!"

Tim stomped off. 

Jason felt stupid. Damien felt stupid. 

"I should leave," muttered Jason.

"You don't need to," said Damien in a small voice. 

He looked at the angel, and then at the top of the tree. He ran over to the ladder they had been using and pulled it closer to the tree, climbed up, and carefully set the angel where it was supposed to be. Jason silently walked over to plug in the Christmas lights. 

Damien came down and they stepped back to admire their handiwork.

"I have to admit," came Barbara's voice. "That looks really good." She wheeled herself in, deftly fishing one of the broken gingerbread men from the floor and taking a bite. "Dick's fine," she reported. "We sedated him cause he was being annoying. Nothing important was hit." She shrugged. "Told my parents I'd be gone for a few hours so I figured we may as well patrol." 

"That's what I said earlier," said Damien. "The memories we make are kicking ass together." He nodded. "Got any jobs for us, Oracle?"

"Always," she said. Jason went to go get his non-confiscated gun. 

Damien gave the tree one last look and whispered, "It does look pretty," before heading down to get into uniform.

 

* * *

 

 Dick woke up the next morning feeling a bit disorientated, but otherwise okay - all things considered. 

Bruce was, predictably, in the chair by the bed. 

"Did you sleep?" Dick asked by way of greeting.

"I did, actually," said Bruce, smiling at his son. "The other three - four - wouldn't let me patrol. Tim said something about it being my Christmas present." 

Dick laughed and then winced. He waved off Bruce's concerned look and asked, "Are they still here?"

"Barbara went home to spend the morning with her family."

"I meant Jay and Tim?"

"They are," said Bruce. "I...I wasn't sure if Jason would stay."

"But he did," said Dick. "Awesome." He pulled out his IV with practiced ease and Bruce sighed. "Come on, Bruce," said Dick. "It's presents time!"

Bruce shook his head. "Seriously?"

"Seriously," said Dick firmly. "Look...Tim was right. I want this to be something we do every year. If I don't make it happen now, no one will."

Bruce found himself smiling, just a little, as he used the intercom to call the others. 

 

* * *

 

"I'm making pancakes," said Alfred, walking into the room where the rest were gathered. "So that you all have a reason to stay after the presents are done." 

"What about your presents?" asked Tim. 

"Give them to me at breakfast," said Alfred, walking back out.

Tim half-laughed, shaking his head, and then looked at the top of the tree. His breath caught in his throat. He hadn't paid attention to it last night, on the way back from patrol. But now he clearly saw that the other two had...He looked at Damien.

Damien fiddled with the edge of his sweater, looking unsure which was rare, and muttered, "It seemed like the right thing to do." 

Tim smiled. "Yeah...it was." 

Dick threw his presents at everyone. Considering who they were, they all caught the soft bundles easily.  "Merry Christmas!" 

Jason tore his open and groaned. "WHY?" 

Dick laughed that infuriating laugh. They were Batman-and-team-themed ugly Christmas sweaters.

Tim burst out laughing. "You win," he told Dick. "Mine aren't anywhere near that creative." 

"You next, then," challenged Dick. 

Tim had gotten them all books. But not just any books. Damien's was on ancient sword-fighting strategies around the world, starting with the Japenese Samurai. Dick's was on the history of circuses. Jason's was on famous unsolved murders (which he was shocked to get because he  _had_ been wanting to get his hand on this book for the last few weeks and had refrained from it due to a lack of cash cause he  _hated_ using the money that Bruce siphoned to him.) Bruce's was - and no one got this - a collection of Sherlock Holme's stories. Apparently, this was an inside joke because Bruce smiled broadly when he got them. 

"My turn," Bruce said once these were all unwrapped. His were, predictably, technology-based. New watches for Dick and Tim, with holographic displays, advanced GPS, and other things that would be useful in their roles as Nightwing and Red Robin. 

He turned to Damien and warned, " _Only_ for missions." Before throwing him a set of keys.

"My own batmobile?" asked Damien eagerly.

"Motorcycle," corrected Bruce with a wry smile. "Let's not push it."

"Acceptable!" declared Damien. "Father, I don't know if my gift is up to the standards that have been set. But keep in mind that I have never done this before..." He scooped up his gifts and handed them out. Jason realized that Bruce's present to him had been skipped - but as he could see it under the tree he wasn't too annoyed.  _It's not like Bruce forgot me,_ he reasoned.  _The Demon Brat is just over eager._

Bruce opened his and looked at the "World's Best Father Mug" with a strange expression that no one could quite place. 

Dick's was a Nightwing-themed T-shirt which he seemed to find both hilarious and infuriating. ("Why do they think I look like that?") 

Tim's was, in a weird coincidence, a book.

"It's about staff fighting and the famous warriors - both mythical and real - that used it," Damien had said, not quite meeting Tim's eyes.

"It's awesome," Tim assured him. He read the back cover and grinned, "Starting with Litte John in Robin Hood's gang. You know that I always thought that the Robin code-name was a reference to Robin Hood?"

"It's a logical assumption," agreed Damien.

 Jason opened his gift from Damien slowly, wondering what on earth the Demon Brat could have gotten him and half-expecting the entire thing to just blow up. 

It didn't blow up. Jason lifted up the pair of genuine leather motorcycle gloves feeling shocked.

"You use cotton," said Damien. "And its been snowing for weeks. If you get hypothermia in your fingers you're gonna probably die cause then you won't be able to shoot." 

Jason looked at the gloves. Then at the book and the sweater. Then at the last present under the tree, the gift he had yet to unwrap which was from Bruce. He could smell Alfred's Christmas present - cookies and cakes he was baking along with the pancakes.

Jason looked up and met Damien's eyes. "I'll be right back," said Jason, and jumped up to run away. 

Damien blinked and looked at Bruce. 

Bruce shrugged. 

"Think he didn't buy us any?" said Tim.

"I think," said Alfred from the door to the kitchen. "It is more likely that Master Jason realizes how much thought everyone put into gifts for him, and feels ashamed of what he got all of you. Regardless, he did say he would be back." Alfred motioned to the kitchen. "Breakfast is ready."

"Might as well," agreed Dick, getting, only a bit unsteadily, to his feet. "Let's eat!"

 

Jason reappeared only 30 minutes later, wearing his new gloves and with snow in his hair. 

"I didn't have time to wrap them," he explained. "Okay...here." He put a brown bag in front of Tim and Dick. Handed Bruce an envelope and turned to Damien. 

"Yours isn't a  _thing,_ " he told Damien. "It's this: I'm going to teach you to shoot. I want you to be able to tell when a gun doesn't have a safety on just by the feel of it and, despite what these idiots say, you should know how to shoot a gun."

Damien blinked and looked at Bruce for confirmation.

Bruce looked at Jason, and nodded slowly. 

"Thank you, Todd," said Damien sincerely. 

Tim had already slipped on the leather jacket. It was grey, rather than black, but still similar enough to Jason's for the intent to be clear. Dick slipped on the snowmen beanie, grinning. 

Bruce held up the key that had been in the envelope. 

"To my apartment," said Jason, not meeting his eyes. "Not that you need one but..."

"I understand," said Bruce softly. "Thank you, Jason."

Jason nodded, cheeks burning. 

"One moment," said Bruce. He stood from the table and returned with the last box. He slid it across the table to Jason. 

Taking a deep breath, Jason opened it. 

Inside was a gun. 

Jason's eyes went huge. Tim actually choked on the pancake he was eating and Dick had to pound him on the back. 

"Father?" asked Damien, shocked.

"Take a look," Bruce told Jason. Jason lifted it up. It was heavier than his usual model. The gun made a whirring sound and an indicator light flashed red. 

"Without the gloves," suggested Bruce.

Jason took off the gloves and held the gun again. This time, he felt it warm up slightly on his palm while the noise was made, and the indicator flashed blue.

Jason understood. "It's coded to my palm," he whispered.

"If you're going to fight with a gun," explained Bruce. "Then I don't want anyone else to be able to use it against you. All things considered," he threw a glance at Damien. "I should have perhaps given this to you yesterday." 

"Thank you," Jason whispered.  _For all of it._

 

"Alfred!" announced Dick. "We got you a group present! How would you like to be on the Great British Baking Show?"

Alfred looked astonished, and then determined. "About time they were shown someone who could  _really_ cook?"

Everyone laughed and the breakfast feast resume, with Bruce drinking his coffee from his "World's Best Father" mug. 

 

* * *

 

Jason had thrown away his small bag with the original presents on his way out the door. Determined to discover what they had been originally meant to get, Damien and Tim teamed up to look for them and discovered them in the outside trash can. Upon opening it, they exchanged knowing glances and took their own. Rough wooden keychains, hand-made, with the names "Replacement," and "Demon Brat" carved into them. 

They safely stored the Christmas Angel on January 1st, so that they could use her next Christmas. 

 


End file.
